Claddagh
by LyzabethSay
Summary: One Story, Three Endings - What will he do to keep her? A little Irish gift and a promise FA
1. The Story

**Claddagh **

**Summery:**What will he do to keep her? A little Irish gift and a promise (FA)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI NY.

**A/N: **Hey y'all! Sorry I haven't been writing on her recently… Been extremely busy with studying! Exams next month! I really shouldn't be doing this now but with the end of the season coming up and spoilers popping up everywhere I felt I needed to. In CSI NY chronological order, this is somewhere between Prey 5.20 and before the End of the Season. Okay! Cool!

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The moonlight was swaying slowly along with the light cotton curtains, in the darkness of his room, as a calming breeze blew through the open window. The streets were empty but somewhere in the far distance there was still the inkling of life, a small sound to prove there was existence in the hollow darkness. Leaning against the open door frame, he stood motionlessly - a figure in the distance, a shadow amongst in vacuity of his apartment. He was watching her as she turned slowly between his bed sheets - a delicate image so small, so fragile. Her soft, silky brown hair lay untouched, her smooth porcelain skin unmarked and scratched, her red lips pale in the moonlight.

Releasing a prolonged sigh he stepped into the room. Pulling off his jacket, he reached into its pocket. Feeling around he let his fingers linger on the small box. He studied, carefully, the smooth velvet and brass hinges. Turning back to get a glimpse of her still-figure coaxed in the subtle light, he dropped his head. Removing his empty hand from the pocket he draped the jacket over a chair and walked away.

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'Don?'

Stepping into the room, he gave a warm smile. He looked down upon her gracious beauty as she sat up in bed, the cover held tightly against her body.

'Hey,' he said softly. The bright orange light from the night stand glowed in the otherwise darkened room, illuminating their faces.

'I thought you were pulling an all nighter?'

'No,' he replied, quietly almost not to disturbed the peacefulness of her voice in the echoing silence. 'I finished early, thought I would come home.'

'I'm glad you did.'

Sitting on the edge of the bed they looked at each other. Eyes connecting, hearts beating, time slowly ticking backwards.

'I have something for you,' reaching for the pocket of his jacket he pulled out the small, purple velvet box, 'a gift.'

'What is it?' her thin fingers delicately traced along the curved edges of the box.

'Open it,' he answered.

Anticipation running high, she lifted the top of the box. Letting out a gasp she was transfixed at its contents. Inside, placed neatly in the center of red silk, lay a small, silver ring. The ring wasn't encased with a diamond or any kind of gem but bore a heart held but a set of hands topped with a crown pulling it slowly from the box she held it up.

'Don?' she asked.

Taking the ring from her he held it between his fingers, 'It's a Claddagh. A traditional Irish ring given through friendship.' Point at the ring he began to explain, 'the heart represents love, the hands unity and the crown loyalty. If the ring is worn on the left ring finger with the heart pointing towards you, it means you're married. If the heart is pointing away it means you're engaged. If it's worn on the right ring finger with the heart pointing away it means you're single.' Lifting her right hand he placed the ring on the tip of her ring finger, 'If the heart it pointing towards you, it means you're in a relationship,' and slid it down onto the base of her finger.

Lifting her hand into the light she admired the small, silver ring encased on her finger.

'It's for you to know how much I love you and that I never want to lose you.'

Turning her attention away from the ring she looked deep into his eyes. His shiny blue eyes locking deep with her glowing brown one. Placing a hand on his the side of his face, she pulled him closer. Their lips touched, softly at first and then again. The taste of each other was tantalizing and sweet. A taste they were so used to through it still gave them nervous tingles inside.

'Promise you won't leave,' he said between their butterfly kisses.

'I promise,' she said pulling him down onto the bed.

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**A/N: **That was REALLY short but I just kindda felt like I NEEDED to write something. I am in TOTAL denial about the finale because I do not believe she will die and this was to add a little heart ach into Flack's life incase she does. BUT SHE WONT. I don't believe. There is not EVIDANCE to prove it's her! Sorry, like I said, living in denial. I wanted to get lots of emotion through and feeling but I think I failed half way. What do you think? *sigh* I've always wanted a Claddagh. I have a necklace but not a ring. I feel so foolish not buying one when I went to Ireland ='( Okay I'll stop talking now.


	2. The First Ending

**Claddagh **

**Summery:**Ending 1 – Angell dies.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI NY.

**A/N: **Okay, no I couldn't stay away… FanFiction is too contagious… I'm now in this frenzy to get at least 3 versions of this story up AND study for exams as well… If I don't ace in English language after this I will hurt my self XP

**This is part 2 of Claddagh.** I've decided to have 3 alternate endings to this story following the spoilers of the season finale. For this one – say Jess does die. How would Don react? Set sometime after the season 5 finale.

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Don stood alone in the dim hall way out side of his apartment. The keys felt heavy in his hands. Everything was moving slowly away from him. Time seemed to be endless. The thrill of a chase seemed long and tiresome. The hours in the interrogation room felt like years. Sitting in the break room was lonely and depressing. Sitting at his desk, opposite her empty desk, felt worse. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed to fit. Everything around him felt out of place or missing or unnatural.

People were still walking pass him dropping their heads in silence. People were still standing around the corner whisper to each other while watching him. People were still asking if he was alright.

What could he say except, 'I'm fine', 'Yeah, great', 'Nothing's wrong'? The pain was hard to bear with. The remembering, even worse. Every second was another second he spent away from her. Was another second he remembered she was gone. Another second that burnt inside him.

Finally putting the key into the door, heaving it open with all his weakening strength. But it was no better on the inside. The dark gloomy living room led to the darker gloomier bedroom. The last place she was. The last place she slept. The last place she loved.

Dropping his keys on the dining table he began stripping himself of his jacket. Tearing off another protective layer again the 'Don't worry, 'Don't take it too hard', 'We miss her too'. It hurt to hear people say that.

Sitting on the edge of his bed he pulled off his shoes, his tie, his shirt. Trying to get rid of the burden of life. For once he wanted to shut everyone out, he wanted to not turn up for work, he wanted to stay asleep, alone in bed where he could dream of her soft, brown curly hair, her glowing, sparkling hazel eyes, her soft, white porcelain skin.

The night was growing darker, the soft sounds of crickets somewhere beyond his window. The absence of stars in the vacuity of space seemed somewhat comforting in the claustrophobic, hustle and bustle of New York life. He craved for space, openness, freedom.

In a state of frustration he got up and tossed his tie onto the chest of draws.

_Not there__, Don. There is a place for your ties. _

The voice echoing in his head. Her voice. The cool, clam, collected way she spoke, with determination and confidence. The way it made him melt inside.

'Yes, Jess,' he said to himself walking back and pulled the tie off the shelf.

Turning his back he didn't see it but something small, something fragile, something silver and round fell to the floor as he walked away. The soft drop it made on his hard wood flooring was loud and clear in the silence of the apartment. Turning to see, he found a small, silver ring at the bottom of the draws.

The claddagh.

The ring he gave to her when she promised she would never leave him. The ring he thought he might one day use to slid onto her left hand. Memories were all they were now. Like the way she smiled when she opened the box, the look of shock mixed with happiness. The attention and look dedication on her face while he explained the detail, the history. How old it was and how it still carried meaning and symbolism whenever worn. She loved it and never took it off.

She wasn't the one to take it off.

Lying motionlessly on the hospital bed, they allowed him in. The sight of her poor, small, innocent life ripped away from her. She shouldn't have died. It shouldn't have been her.

'Anyone but her,' he whispered into the darkness the ring still sitting neatly in the middle of his palm. 'It shouldn't have been you.'

Reaching out he set the ring neatly, back the top of the dresser. Arranging it nicely so it sat perfectly under a framed photo of her. The only thing left of her in his apartment. The only thing he now has to remember her by.

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**A/N: **Was that too sad, sentimental? Was that very out of character? You know what bothers me – we don't know how Don is going to react is she does die. We've never seen Don Flack in a situation where he's been hurt emotionally. [Except possibly with his sister – but it wasn't elaborated] It's going to be REALLY strange for us to watch. Anyways, comment =D love you!


	3. The Second Ending

**Claddagh **

**Summery:**Ending 2 – Angell doesn't die but does get shot

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI NY.

**A/N: **Check out my YouTube for a stylish new CSI NY action vid and a Mac and Claire one too =D I'm promoting it on here XP Maybe I should promote my FanFiction on YouTube more – shouldn't I CGC XP

**This is part 3**** of Claddagh.** According to the spoilers Angell dies by getting shot – so let's us say she does get shot but doesn't die.

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Don watched as the dark shadows of the night nurses traveled across the pale white ceiling. Their blotchy outlines walking then pausing then turning then walking again repeatedly. The monotony was endless and they voices drone on along with the steady pace of the heart rate machine.

The slow pulse created an echo in the otherwise empty, soundless ward.

Bleep

Bleep

Bleep

Rubbing the side of his temple Don tried to close his eyes. Hours spent sitting patiently while doctors constantly entered to check her vitals before giving him a sympathetic nod and leaving. A regular routine he was becoming familiar with as the door of the room creaked open behind him but slowly closed again without anyone entering.

Leaning his head back against the chair, his body was slouched down. A lonely hand resting eagerly on the side of her bed incase she woke up.

It all happened so unexpectedly. There they were, walking the suspect to the squad car. Seconds later, without any warning, they were being showered with bullets. An unanticipated drive-by from a group of insane kids attempting to thrill themselves with drinking, joyriding and finally a cop chase.

No one would have thought someone would have got hit.

No one would have though it would be her.

But now, here she is, laying helplessly in a hospital bed, IV tubes supplying her with life, while he waited for her to open her eyes. The sharp, sparking hazel eyes that playfully greeted him on the mornings she stayed over. The soft, glowing hazel eyes that woke him when he nodded off during work. The deep, meaningful eyes and heart-warming smile and cheerful giggles when they sat together on lonely evenings curled up on his couch.

All simply small, tender moments they'd shared within the short 6 months they'd been together.

Bleep

Bleep

Bleep

The sound was becoming irritating to him. The constant drumming of in at the back of him mind was a continuous reminder that maybe, if she was strong enough, she might just pull through.

But he knew her better than that. He knew her better than he'd ever know anyone. Her secrets and her truths, her mistakes and her triumphs. Not just had they been partners for a year now but that they'd been friends for longer. On cold rainy nights when he had a tough case she was always there for him. On tiresome, gruesome days after horrific murder he was there for her. They'd share moments stronger than words. Felt emotions that bonded tighter than love. They had felt the extents of which life had to offer.

But now here she was, lingering on the edge. In a limbo of uncertain decisions and unsure circumstances, she had to make a choice. To return to the living where he was waiting or enter a world of unknown mysteries that she might never understand.

Leaning forward and reaching out his hand he took hers. Grazing the top gently he pressed his lips against her smooth, soft peach scented skin.

'Please, Jess,' he whispered quietly. 'I know you can hear me.'

But she didn't reply.

Tracing his fingers along hers he came to the ring. The small, silver ring he'd given her only a week prior. Something so small and insignificant to the outside world but held meaning and symbolism and a whole new level of commitment between them. Upon giving it she made a promise and knew she would never break it.

'I know you'll come back to me,' he said, kissing the top of her hand again. 'You promised.'

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**A/N: **This is still a bit morbid but don't worry she DOES wake up in the end. She was only hit by the bullet =D BTW, I'm talking about the spoilers with the assumption that everyone already KNOWS them? Please tell me I haven't suddenly or recently made someone burst into tears! I'm so sorry, I should have put a spoiler notice or something, I really did mean to shock you if this is the first time you heard it! I'm really sorry…. Sorry? Anyways, this felt a bit hard to write. Dunno why but I was trying to capture absentness but don't think it worked too well... Oh, I am such a cynic – I never think my work is good. That's why I have my wonderful, lovely review bunnies to keep feeding me with positive comments! Thank you guys! Leave a comment on your way out =D


	4. The Third Ending

**Claddagh **

**Summery:**Ending 3 – Angell lives (yay!)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI NY.

**A/N: **I am actually meant to be doing math right now but I feel like falling a sleep so I thought I'd do this to keep me awake =D Yes people, this is the last installment =( I shan't be writing for the next month or so because exams are in 2 and a half weeks and I'm not stressing yet! Argh!

**This is part 4 ****of Claddagh…** oh just read already!

Oh btw, if it reminds you a bit of Danny's scene from a few episodes ago sorry. Oh and the situation is a bit different from the last one… SORRY, this one just fit a little better.

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Jess sat quietly on the steps of the precinct. Around her the neon flashing lights danced off the solid, concert walls; the flashing of blue and yellow in the otherwise darkened New York. A strong, harsh wind was blowing from the east penetrating through her jacket, shivering her on the inside while tossing her hair across her face. All she could hear was the constant whirl of sirens, chaos and confusion. People running left to right, left to right passing her mindlessly. The uniforms lead cuffed suspects in and out of the precinct, detectives scribbled on their note pads, CSIs fiddled with their kits and Jess sat alone, hands stretched out in front of her holding on tight to the frosty air.

Looking down at her shivering hands, she slowly opened then and turned her palm to face her. Smeared across her fingers tips down to her wrists was dark, red blood. She tried desperately to control her weak, nimble fingers from shaking and but she couldn't bring herself to close her palms again.

Jess

_They'd grabbed her tightly by the shoulders and thrown her into a wall. Backing up against the cold concert she felt the __wetness press against her palms; soft moss tickled her fingertips. Her hair was plastered against her forehead; draped awkwardly across her eyes. _

Jess

_Look directly forward at the __man; she was confronted with the barrel of her own gun. Turning her head to look away, it came closer; inches away from her face. She could feel the cold mussel hovering, gazing along her cheek._

Jess

_The __pungent smell of the alley way was musky and stale. She could taste metallicness of the blood in the corner of her mouth and her cheek was growing red with pain. _

Jess

_Her breathing was rapidly increasing. She could feel her heart beating faster.__ Adrenalin was rushing around her, pumping blood straight to her head. She could feel her hands begin to shake with nervousness and fear; her palms becoming sweaty as she clenched them closed. The cool air of the alley freezing her as she shivered. _

Jess

_Before she knew it, she was on the ground again. Punched in the stomach and kicked on to ground. They were ruthless and cruel and when the worst began to come her way untill she heard a voice. _

Jess

_The__ soft voice of an old man passing their deserted alley. Someone who happened to be there at the wrong time. _

Jess

_It didn't take them long to decided what to do. Pulling the man forward, slamming him against the wall and ramming him with punches across his frail__ body; his scream of pains were terrifying. _

Jess

_As she crawled over to his helpless, motionle__ss body she heard the gun clock… _

Jess

_h__is finger ready on the trigger…_

Jess

_a__nd with only one small tug…_

'Jess.'

Looking up in fright, Jess was confronted by a pair of glistening blue eyes. Something familiar yet so bewildering at the same time. She dreamt of those eye, woken up to those eyes and were the only things she could see in times of peril and disaster. Her breathing was uneven and the hauntingness of her mind re-enacting the scene was horrific. The thought of blood dripping slowly from the wound. Her attempts to save him as he laid there, eyes wide opening staring into the gleaming night's sky filled with starry eyed constellations for the last time.

'You okay?' he placed him self slowly on the step next to her; his body heat warming hers.

She nodded slowly, gripping her hands together, hiding the harden blood that covered her hands. She bit her lip intensely, trying to focus on anything other than the events of the evening. The fear she felt and the terror that man must have. He tried to save her life. He did save her life but only in exchange for his.

'Your hands are shaking,' Don reached out for her small, quivery hands but she pulled back protectively. Reaching forward he slowly took her hands and slowly eased open her clenched fists revealing the blood stains cuts and bruises.

'He died. Before I could call for help,' she took a big gasp of air trying to poise herself before continuing. 'I tried to help him but I couldn't,' she whipped a lone tear on the top of her sleeve. 'This shouldn't have happened.'

Hushing her softly Don held her close; whispering soft soothing words of comfort into her ear. Holding her hands in his, his finger grazed upon the small, metal ring positioned on Jess' right hand.

'I'm sorry,' she said.

'Why?'

'It's covered in blood isn't.'

Don rubbed his thumb over it, shining it along the way. His finger followed the outline of the shape truing with over smooth surface of the heart, dancing along the hands and finger until slowly caressing the crown. His hands were big yet protective, rough but still fine. They traced delicate lines of intimacy in her skin not enough to hurt her, but just enough to tease her. His touch was soft and careful, sensitive and companionate.

'It doesn't matter really,' he said with a cheerful tone. 'It did its job.'

'What do you mean?' she questioned.

'It kept you alive, didn't it? And brought you home to me – like you promised. I don't know what I would do without you.'

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**A/N: **This one's slightly longer… ish I think. I think I wrote and rewrote this at least 4 or 5 times because I couldn't get it to work. It was impossible trying to make it seem more descriptive as apposed to narrative. I don't like this one much compared to the others… I would have liked it if it was Don's POV. I find that this is SO out of character for Jess I mean she has enough girl power to kill their asses. And for the first time I don't have anything more to say here. But I shall hear your screams and squeals on the day of the finale even from this side of the world – so UNTILL THEN and the end of my exams I bid you all... Good Night/ Morning/ Lunchtime/ Breakfast/ Tea/ Supper/ Luck and Congratulations


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